The Only Exception
by Soren Gray
Summary: Sookie takes revenge on Bill for breaking her heart.


He'd followed her here, after the sun went down. They were joined by blood; he sensed her moods as easily as if they were his own. Her scent drifted lazily through the crowded bar, hovering over the crowd and mingling with the cigarette smoke.

She'd thrown him out of the house. With red tears streaking his face, his feet moved backward against their will until they were past the doorframes of her house. He remembered the slam of her door in his face, the same way he remembered everything – with the painstaking accuracy of the dead.

Bill Compton took another swallow of blood and allowed it to sit on his tongue for a moment. They'd been out of A positive, so he had had to make do with O negative. As it went, any bottled blood was a poor substitute of the real thing, but this was even more so. Someone at the bar had added peppermint extract – no doubt someone's morbid idea of a holiday treat. He swallowed the mouthful with difficulty.

She sat at a table on the far side of the room, alone in a sea of well-dressed men. Her hair was done in an elaborate knot on the top of her head, with golden curls cascading to her shoulders. The dress was a simple one, white eyelet cotton with a green velvet sash. How did she manage to look so innocent and unbelievably tempting at the same time? Delicate candy cane earrings framed her face, making her look like a sweet version of those strange holiday elves they had stationed at the entrance of every shopping mall. Even in his human life, Bill Compton had never enjoyed Christmas, and this one, his one hundred and forty-fifth, would appear to be no exception.

He still couldn't figure out why Sookie had come here. There was nothing special about this bar, no superhuman presence that could attract her. She had taken the night off at Merlotte's, and driven two hours through the night to come here. Was she meeting someone – another vampire? One of those damned wolves?

Bill tipped his bottle back again, nearly choking on the overwhelming taste of peppermint this time. Whoever had thought that his concoction would sell well was clearly not a vampire. Not that many vampires would choose here as their dwelling place– as far as he could tell, he was the only undead man in the crowd.

"Well, well." The voice was smooth as caramel. "It appears that Sookie has the makings of her very own fan club." Eric Northman sat down beside him, tipped back Bill's bottle of TrueBlood, and made a face. "Is that peppermint?"

Bill clenched his fist convulsively under the table, then just as quickly forced his fingers to relax. _No emotion. _"What are you doing here?"

"Why, I'm here to see Sookie, of course." He paused and studied Bill's face for a moment. "Is it possible that you honestly don't know what tonight is?"

"It's Christmas Eve." Bill forced the words out. "Everyone knows that." He held back the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue: _Why is she here with you? _Knowing the Viking's tendency to gloat, Bill had no doubt he would find out soon.

To his surprise, the older vampire's piercing blue eyes clouded over. Eric glanced across the room, at her. She still sat at the table, engrossed in her glass of champagne.

Bill understood. "She doesn't know you're here…any more than she's aware of my presence."

Eric replied without turning around. "You're an idiot, Bill Compton."

"Of that I have no doubt."

"Then allow me to reiterate. You lost her. You were clumsy and you were stupid, and she left you." He knew all these things, but the words still hurt.

"I…I was hoping to make my apologies tonight."

"Don't you think that, if she wanted your apologies she would be back in Bon Temps, instead of a karaoke night, in a nameless bar, by herself, on Christmas Eve?" Each word was a barb.

"She doesn't seem to want any vampire company at all," he replied coldly. "That's why she's surrounded by humans tonight."

She rose from her chair abruptly. Both vampires sensed it at the same time and fell silent, wheeling around in their seats to stare at her. She ascended the steps slowly before settling down on the simple wooden stool. Sookie grasped the microphone with confidence, and as the music began, she opened her mouth to sing.

"_When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry  
>And curse at the wind,<br>He broke his own heart, and I watched  
>As he tried to reassemble it…"<em>

It was as if someone had cast a spell over the room. It was so still you could have heard a pin drop. Every face was transfixed on the delicate creature serenading them from the stage.

"_I've always lived like this, able to keep a comfortable distance,  
>And up until now I'd sworn to myself that I'm content<br>With loneliness…  
>Because none of it was ever worth the risk…"<em>

Vampires didn't feel pain. Vampires were cold. So why was he suddenly so warm? Why did his eyes sting? Without warning, his vision blurred. He glanced down at his hand, resting on the table. One bright spot on the lacquered wood was stained wet, cherry red.

"_I've got a tight grip on reality, but I can't let go of what's in front of me here,  
>I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up…<br>Leave me with some kind of proof that it's not a dream…"_

Sookie's heart beat throbbed in his ears, louder than even the music. The melody seemed to pound into his skull, forcing its way deeper and deeper into his consciousness. He was floundering in it. So many times, he was able to keep his distance. Not now. Her emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

And then he understood. He glanced up, desperately. His eyes met hers. She held his gaze, never wavering.

She'd known he was here. She'd known he had followed her. This song was meant for him.

The song was in crescendo. Her voice rose with it, and so did he. Somewhere, back in the real world, he was sitting at a table with Eric Northman, a now-cold TrueBlood in his hand. But she'd tugged his mind out of his body. He surrendered to her willingly, and let her carry him high. The very air seemed to vibrate with her energy. For one stunning moment, his heart thrummed with hers.

He came down from it abruptly, crashing into his own body. He glanced down and immediately frowned, covering the wetness on his pants with a napkin from the table. Eric Northman was looking at him, amused. "Enjoying the music, Compton?"

There was polite clapping from the other tables before conversation resumed in the bar. The magic faded from the room as quickly as it had come. Sookie gently set the microphone back in the stand and exited the stage. She briskly gathered up her things and, without meeting his eyes, walked out.

He had to see her. His ears still rang with the phantom of her voice. She had to have felt that, too. He rose from his chair and dashed after her into the cold.

She was halfway across the deserted street when he called out her name. "Sookie!" She stopped in her tracks, turning around.

"Bill…?" The look on her face, the hope in her voice, was enough. He allowed himself to smile, hesitantly. He reached out a hand towards her. Her hand met his, and he swept her in his arms. Her scent filled him and washed over him, and he drank it in thirstily. Her golden curls fell over his arm, and she murmured into his shoulder, "I wondered if you would come."

"Of course." He sighed in relief. Her body fit against his just as he had remembered. "We're joined by blood, remember? We'll always be connected." She glanced up at him. She smiled. He gazed down at her tenderly.

He gasped when the silver stake slid between his ribs. Blood, congealed black, spurted out of the hole in his chest, all over her pretty white dress. He clawed at her desperately, but she held it against him, twisting and driving the point deeper.

He didn't remember falling to his knees, but suddenly she was standing over him, covered from head to toe in black slime. His life's blood. Tears ran down her cheeks , but her eyes blazed with anger. Anger, and vengeance.

"Why?" The word was a breath on the wind, nothing more. His throat was clogged with blood.

"Because." She barked the reply between hacking sobs. "You took everything I had. You manipulated me, used me, and then tossed me aside. Almost everyone I've ever known and loved is dead because of you." She stepped away from him, the stake still clutched in her hand. "The only thing you've brought to my life is death and terror, Bill Compton. And you've tasted my blood, which means that I'll never be free of you until you're gone."

The world was fading. Somewhere far away, his consciousness was panicking in its dying shell, his survivor instinct flailing like a wounded bird. But right now, the color was leaving his vision. Everything except her golden curls…those damned golden curls.

_Irony._ He tasted the word, bitter on his tongue. The words of the song she'd sang in the bar rang hollowly in his ears now.

_"You are the only exception….you are the only exception…And I'm on my way to believing…"_


End file.
